


Forward Motion

by Vialana



Series: Fanning the Flames [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Denial, Lust, M/M, POV First Person, Post Soul Society Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-07
Updated: 2006-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-11 12:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vialana/pseuds/Vialana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There has to be a logical reason for Ichigo to be staring at Renji so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forward Motion

Abarai Renji was not the sort of person you could ignore easily. Or at all, really. How an uptight guy like Kuchiki Byakuya put up with him for so long, I’ll never understand.

But when I start thinking too much about that, I’m suddenly reminded of Renji’s more positive attributes. The loud-mouth _is_ a good fighter, he earned his Vice-Captaincy in the Sixth Squad and no one who’d ever seen him move would ever say otherwise. And his Bankai … even without training it’s impressive, and he’s getting better with his control every day.

When you start to consider all that, then staring at him whenever I can seems a little more explicable, right?

Right, of course, it’s perfectly normal. So friggin’ normal that I don’t even _need_ to explain myself.

You’re so pathetic, Kurosaki.

God, I wish Rukia was here. Her advice always seems to distract me at least, if not help a little. She’d probably smack me on the head and call me an idiot, or maybe just roll her eyes. Then we’d argue and joke and everything would be okay again.

Although, she and Renji are close. The bastard’s completely in love with her on top of that. Who’s to say she doesn’t share those feelings? Maybe she’d think it was disgusting, or she’d be hurt that I’d even contemplate … contemplate what? It’s just looking. When did this suddenly become about feelings?

I don’t have feelings for Renji, that’s completely absurd; it doesn’t mean anything just ’cause I’m staring. Renji’s a formidable opponent, I have to keep watching him in case we fight again, and maybe — though I’ll never admit this to him — I might be able to learn a few things from watching him. His movements are so fluid; you can tell he’s trained his entire life to become the best. There are hundreds of perfectly legitimate reasons for watching Renji.

It’s not like he’s hard to miss anyway.

Still, it surprises me sometimes when classmates dismiss him as he waits outside the school walls for class to finish.

“Oh, it’s just Kurosaki-kun’s friend,” they say after one glance. I’ll never understand how they can look away from a fascinating guy like Renji. He’s just so … Renji.

Again, I wish Rukia were here. She could probably explain just what’s so appealing about the red-haired tattoo freak. Actually, that was probably it. Mystery solved. The marks all over his body are hypnotic, used to lure and distract. I’m only staring now ‘cause I’m not fighting him. That sort of trick wouldn’t work on me in battle, but give a guy time to relax and bam!

Like right now. I’m staring again and I can’t bring myself to look away.

Of course, I could just be staring because he’s just standing at the school gates in that hideously dated outfit getting drenched by the sudden rainfall that hadn’t been predicted for today. The idiot wasn’t even trying to move towards shelter. I couldn’t be the only one staring at this blatant act of stupidity, could I?

Beside me, Ishida does a double-take and hesitantly points the shinigami out. “Kurosaki, is Abarai-san okay?”

“Why the hell are you asking me? What would I know?”

The Quincy bastard just _looks_ at me. Goddamn, that guy’s too smart for his own good. Why the heck does he have to be so intuitive? … Not that there’s anything to be intuitive about.

Damnit.

I’m running towards the shinigami before I can think.

“Oi! Jackass, what the hell are you doing?”

Renji scowls at me. “What does it look like? I’m waiting for you.”

“In the rain? You’re getting drenched.”

“So are you, idiot.”

I hadn’t even noticed it. My shirt was already mostly transparent and, reaching up, I could feel my spikes had been flattened.

“Here.” I blink at the bright pink monstrosity shoved in my direction. I hadn’t even noticed the others racing up behind me. Inoue just smiles at me. “I’m going to walk home with, Tatsuki-chan. You can bring that back to me tomorrow, okay?”

I just nod, taking the umbrella from her. Her smile widens and she waves goodbye to Ishida and Chad — each under their own, less … colourful, umbrellas — before dashing off to the group of girls by the school entrance.

“I will also take my leave then if nothing serious is going on,” Ishida says in that irritatingly calm voice of his. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, Kurosaki, Sado-kun, Abarai-san.”

Chad just waves before walking away. I’m left alone with Renji.

I hope it’s just the cold that caused that shiver through my body.

“I’m not getting under that thing,” Renji protests, looking at the umbrella as though it were a particularly poisonous snake.

“Just do it,” I grumble. “You’re already drenched, but you don’t want to get any wetter, the cold will seep in and you’ll get sick.”

“Shinigami don’t get sick.”

I stopped at that, trying to think of an instance that would contradict that, but couldn’t find anything.

“Well, let’s not tempt fate anyway, okay?” I’m blushing a little and I can’t look at him. I know he’s staring at me like I’m an idiot. Not that he really looks at me any other way, of course.

“Whatever.” He finally grunts and moves in under the umbrella beside me. “Idiot,” he mutters as we leave.

The walk home had never seemed so long and daunting and yet so enjoyable before.

Dad’s in the clinic when we arrive, Karin’s helping him and Yuzu’s already started making dinner. She smiles brightly at Renji and invites him to stay for dinner. I’m not certain whether I want him to refuse or not, so I don’t say anything against the invitation. He accepts and the two of us continue to my room. I grab some towels on the way.

“Here.” I shove one at him once we enter. “The bathroom’s across the hall if you want to use it.”

“Sure, but …” He tugs at his soaking shirt.

“Oh.” Spare clothes. I rake my eyes over his body, blushing and trying not to think too much besides which of my clothes might fit him. Bastard’s bigger than I am. We’re about the same height though. Before he can say anything, I bury myself in my cupboard and search for something appropriate.

“You can wear these for now.” I hand him a pair of pants that had never fit me. “I’ll find you a shirt in a minute.”

Renji was frowning and staring at my stomach. I fought the urge to cover my midsection with my arms. “You’re kinda small,” was all he said.

“Shut up, take them and be grateful, asshole,” I growl. “They’ve never fit, okay? Kept falling down without a belt.”

Renji grins. “Easy access, huh?”

“Shut up and change!” I shove him out of my room. God, he’s a dick.

Even so, it’s a little hard to keep my mind off the other man stripping in my bathroom. I remove my shirt and think of Renji doing the same, slowly revealing his tattooed and scarred torso. Some of those scars would be the result of my actions. I wonder what they’d feel like in contrast to the rest of his skin. Would there be any traces of me still attached to them? Part of me in Renji?

Oh god.

My hands are shaking.

What the hell?

I can’t even finish changing. The button on my trousers keeps slipping from my fingers.

This is too much.

Why the hell …?

“Hey, Ichigo, you got a shirt for me yet?” Renji enters without knocking. I freeze up, but he doesn’t notice. “I might not get sick, but it’s still kinda cold.”

“You …” Here we are half-naked in my room and he doesn’t feel weird? I mean, I’ve seen his skin barred before, but this is different. Isn’t it? This is …

“You don’t have any scars.”

“Wha …” Renji looks down at himself in confusion. “No, guess not.”

“But …” I cross over to him without thinking and trace a finger over where I _know_ I scarred him. He catches my hand and I look up at him, startled.

“It’s a gigai. Rukia might have gotten hers a little banged up, but I don’t fight in this, so it doesn’t scar. Hell, most of the wounds I receive in my shinigami form don’t usually scar that visibly.”

“But … I cut you.”

Renji stares at me, blinking a little in confusion before a sly smile crosses his face. His grip on my hand tightens and I lean into him almost instinctively.

“Oi, Ichigo.” His breath whispers hot against my face and I shiver. “Do you like the thought of marking me?”

“I …” My voice breaks and I can’t say any more. My breathing quickens, racing with my heartbeat. I barely see Renji’s grin since he’s drawing closer and I’m letting him.

The touch of his lips on mine stuns me, and I feel faint. I inhale sharply and force back a moan. It’s just a touch, barely that, but I’m shaking. It’s so …

Renji pulls back. He’s staring at me, his expression unreadable. What’s he thinking? Why did he stop? Why did he _start_? Is he going to …?

He kisses me again before I can start thinking coherently, but instead of freezing me, this time the kiss serves as a catalyst for motion. He’s barely holding me, so I rectify that by pushing back eagerly against him and tangling my fingers tightly in his hair. The hand that’s still trapped against his chest strokes the firm skin and this time I let my moan of appreciation echo between us.

He shudders at the sound and action and, before I know it, he deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue inside my mouth. I cling to him tighter.

This is so … I never thought …

Hell, this is goddamn perfect.

Just as I think that, Renji breaks the kiss, pulling his head back.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, his breath barely reaching my wet lips.

My body’s used to intensity, but not that kind of intensity. When he draws away from me sharply, I lose my balance and crash to the ground, my senses and emotions shortly following my body. The warm feeling in my guts slowly turns to sharp shards of ice and I clutch at my stomach, feeling sick.

“Renji … what …?”

He shakes his head and won’t meet my gaze.

I mean, what the hell? You don’t just … do that and then stop. You don’t get to fucking stop like that when you start it! You don’t get to throw away all my objections and make me feel like that then spit me aside like I don’t matter. Like my feelings don’t matter.

… Oh … Damn.

I can’t speak and Renji’s staring just over the top of my head.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” he says again softly. “It was just … You don’t——”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence you fucking bastard!” My anger had finally won out against my shock, as it always does. “Don’t use me as an excuse and don’t ever think that you understand anything like that about me.”

Renji actually meets my eyes, but he doesn’t say anything to my last comment. “It’s really easy to forget how young you are sometimes. I almost don’t remember … you fall in love so easily.”

I snort at that thought. “Yeah, it’s real friggin’ obvious you don’t remember anything about being _human_.”

Goddamn patronising fucks the lot of them! It’s fine that I’m fifteen when I save their asses, but understanding emotion … oh no, he’s only human and a young one at that, he doesn’t understand a thing. I feel like finding Ishida and saying, “You and me, Quincy, we’re wiping the bastards out.”

“I’m sorry.”

I glare at him, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Give your sister my apologies, I’m sure she put a lot of hard work into cooking.”

What the hell? I stare at him for a moment before the meaning hits me, but he’s left the room already. I scramble to my feet to try and catch him, but he’s out the door and bolting down the street, water spraying up with every step.

“You could have at least …” I trail off as I stare at the open door. My hand tightens around the umbrella handle I’d grabbed as I moved to the entryway.

“Ichi-nii, isn’t your friend staying for dinner?” Yuzu calls from the kitchen.

I take a breath and try to wipe all the emotion from my face. It wouldn’t do to have my little sisters worried about me for no reason.

“No, he isn’t. Sorry for the trouble. He had somewhere important to be.”

“That’s too bad. Maybe next time.”

“I doubt there’ll be a next time,” I mutter, closing the door.

I put the pink umbrella back near the others sitting by the front door so I won’t forget to bring it back to Inoue tomorrow. I stare at it for a moment before heading to the kitchen.

Goddamn hero-complex.


End file.
